


Shiro

by KilledPrick, SassyBeanQueen, wolfeyes21



Series: Smells Like Queer Spirit [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilledPrick/pseuds/KilledPrick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyBeanQueen/pseuds/SassyBeanQueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfeyes21/pseuds/wolfeyes21
Summary: Establishing the character





	1. Dreams

Hot and dry, hot and dry, the landscape is used to this, but Shiro could feel his throat crying out for water. The quick sip he takes from his flask is warm and gritty. Sweat rolls from his hairline down his nose, and he squints his eyes a bit to keep it from getting in his eyes. 

The squad of 8 has been making their way towards the village for the past half hour, humvees hidden so as not to announce their presence. They had stopped to scout the area, and to leave the first sniper and spotter pair on the slight vantage point. 

“Nest is all clear, transformers roll out.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and stifled a snort, he had to talk to Matt about the stupid squad names he kept coming up with. Hearing Darryl, his commanding officer, casually meme was not ideal for a stealth mission. Also, didn't transformers usually include a lot of explosions? This was a stealth mission. 

Shiro took left flank as they got nearer to the village, rifle braced and scanning the surroundings. 

He heard Darryl stop, the soft thump as Tadashi walked into something, and then the soft horrified whisper. 

“They're using the children as bait.”

He didn't turn around. He wanted to see, wanted to gauge the danger for himself, but he trusted his squad, and he kept his eyes sweeping over the way they had came. 

“Clear out the building on the corner of the square, and set up the nest. We’ll cover. Buzz in with sit rep.” 

They're hidden in the shadow of the sniper nest, where the heat doesn't quite reach. His CO relays the info the sniper is giving him. Barbed wire, six children. No ground fighters, but a lot of above ground hiding spaces so they can't get a definitive count. They're gonna need to provoke an attack so that the snipers can target the correct places. No rifles, switch to handguns. Only return fire. Ground cover is limited. 

Hands on hands on hands on hands. A quietly whispered, “Roll out.”

There's no luck on the battle front. 

They hit the square, running fast and low. Barbed wire clustered like snakes made the center a treacherous maze. Its raised in the most inconvenient of places, fangs of metal lying open in wait. Dust hung, suspended, in the dry heat. For a moment, all was still with tension and silence. And then they ran. Shiro ducks low under the first strand, steps over the next one. Sidesteps between two vertical strands. There's a strand running at chin height, and he's ducking down when the first shot rings out. He flinches into the wire, razors cutting a large gash across his nose and cheeks. Fuck. 

There's another gun shot and he's frozen in place, trying to place the origin. Also, trying not to cut himself on the razors around him. Shiro quickly ducks around several strands of barbed wire, grits his teeth, raises his arm, and shoots in the direction the shot came from. It hits a wall. He hears it. He hears a second thud. the sniper took the shot. Gravel rained down. Missed. He had missed and that meant that there was still the same amount of guns in play and Shiro was still out of cover and stuck in this stupid tangle of barbed wire. Darryl had taken point and had managed to get several yards in front of him, getting closer to the children stuck in the middle. If he kept going forward, there would be too many targets. Shiro started to take the steps back, untangling himself from the barbed wire maze. He was almost free. Darryl managed to get to the center of the town square. He stepped forward. 

Gunshots! Hitting the wall. Trying to get hands steady. Aiming his handgun. There's something in the way, he can't aim right. More gunshots. Blood in his eyes. He can barely see. His squad is guiding the children through the square. Tadashi, bleeding hands moving wire out of the way. Liz, laying down cover fire. Shiro empties a clip into the windows of the buildings nearby. A scream. A body falling off a roof. Less gunshots.

A child, almost out of the square, Shiro runs forward, pulls away wire, she gets free. He’s gesturing toward the nest, she’s running. Liz is screaming. Bleeding. Shot. Her body sags onto strands of sharp wire. Suspended in a silver web, slowly turning red. 

Shiro is crying. The second handgun clicks empty. When? Explosive shot. Less gunshots. A boy, bleeding tears. Bloody handprint. Pushing him towards safety. Four more children. Another shot. The gunshots stop. The ragged breathing of Tadashi and the kids. They're all making their way through the deadly web. Two boys crawl under the last wire, run toward the other children. 

Darryl walks towards the maze.

Click.

Shiro still has his hand held out for another child;

Heat. Pressure. Impact. Red. Pain.

Screaming.

He’s screaming.

He wrenches his eyes open, expecting to see the blood covered town center, torn flesh, debris, the blue of the sky, the red, the- he can't breathe, he can't breathe hecantbreathe 

Darkness. 

 

He sits bolt upright, trying to see, something - anything. The dresser. His blanket. Matt, waking beside him. The window in the corner. 

“Sweetheart?”  
Shiro started. 

Matt continued in a low voice.  
“Sweetheart, its ok. You're here. With me. Keith is in a room down the hall. Katie is playing everything in the living room. I'm right here with you. This is real. Just take a deep breath with me, ok?”

This is real. This is real. This is real…


	2. Late night meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best way to my heart is with a knife

This. Was not how Shiro expected to be spending the night. 

He could be at home, in bed, with Matt, right now. Well. Maybe. 

He liked to walk when his mind started to drift away, liked to feel his body, remind himself of the changes.

He liked the solitude, the held breath feeling of a world on pause, the feeling that he existed out of time, peacefully.

He stepped between trees, softly, mindlessly following a path from his childhood, across the field and between the trees and to the small playground that was not a secret, but seemed like it was.

Shiro, his world made up of shades of grey and the sounds of night, and the feeling of his foot hitting a solid object? And his balance being upturned and his body tipping forward. 

There was a shriek. He twisted as he fell, landing on his back with a curse. There was a rush and then pain, and he felt his body heat up and the sun in his eyes, brought a fist up, punched out, a crunch. Retreat. Find cover. Get behind the building. Or was it trees? Take cover in shadow. 

He's running 75% on instinct, 25% on training, which is a deadly combination. 

He's definitely hyperventilating at this point, and he’s trying to slow down, lock down into survival mode, get quiet, 

There’s crying. 

There’s children in the plaza and they’re crying.  
There’s a boy in the maze and he’s crying, and Shiro is holding his hand out, and there’s an explosion, and there’s crying.

Protection. 

He grabs at the noise, snags an arm, and tucks it between himself and the building. Tree. The tree.

The boy is shades of black stark against the general shades of night grey. 

Pale skin. Marred by the tracks of dark blood spreading from his nose. Dark eyes.

Shaky voice. 

"Oh shit, shit, shitshitshit. Fuck, fuck are you ok? Fuck no you're not, oh fuck. Holy shit I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry. Ow ow god I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t mean this. Oh my god I didn’t mean this, I’m so sorry. I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry. Oh fuck you’re bleeding. Oh fuck oh fuck I stabbed you. I need to. Uh. I need to call an ambulance? I need to call an ambulance."

Blurrily Shiro glanced around, seeing dark shades of grey but feeling the heat of the desert sun.  
"Too far for med evac" 

"Nope. No it’s fine. Look. I’m calling 911 ok? We need to both take some deep breaths." 

Shiro blurs out for a while, focusing on the sand undernea- the dirt. The dirt and twigs under his shoes, the shift of rubber against dirt. The sounds of night creatures, the wet, coppery smell of the air, the - wait. The pain in his chest. Ah. He looks at his hand, blood slick and, he steals a look at the kid, the kid. He’s small, too young to be carrying a knife around. Too young to be hiding in the trees at 3 in the morning. Definitely too young for the sanctions that come with stabbing someone. 

He reaches out two fingers, hooks the kids shirt, bloody fingerprints blending into the dark fabric. 

Shiro gestures to the knife, still loosely gripped and slowly dripping blood. He mimes throwing it, and wide eyes narrow, an eyebrow raising in Shiro’s direction. Shiro rolls his eyes in the direction of the phone, breathing steadying out, reality cementing around him.

The kid makes a quizzical motion with his knife holding hand, finishes telling the phone their location, and hangs up. 

“Throw the knife away.” Rasps out Shiro.  
“What?”  
“The knife,” Says Shiro slowly. “Throw it away.”

“I don't. I'm sorry, I don't. I don't understand.” The kid’s voice raises thinly.

Shiro sighs, ear hitting his shoulder as he tilts his head to look up at this kid.

“You didn’t mean to stab me.” A statement of fact. “It was an accident. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Throw the knife away and let me lie profusely to authority.”

“Let you do what? I - I stabbed you!”

“And I’m pretty sure I broke your nose. Sorry bout that. But listen.” Shiro drags his eyes obviously around the situation. “This is some real shit that you don't need. Just… let me talk to the authorities. And get rid of the knife! Please!”

The kids eyes dart around, catching on the shadows in the clearing. Then he closes his eyes, and hurls the knife into the branches of a nearby tree. It sticks. 

Shiro hears the sirens growing louder, and he swears.  
“Kid! What's your name?”

“Keith.”

“Cool. Mine’s Shiro. And I'm your brother now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 100% admit that I spent the last day writing the last eight sentences.


End file.
